Under Pale Moonlight
by TheGryfter
Summary: Bare Your Soul - Pt2. Things are falling apart. Clark is denying his feelings for Lois. Chloe has disappeared with Davis. But when Clark meets Chloe for a mysterious rendezvous, things go horribly wrong. And only Lois can save him.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I know it's taken a while, but here it is... the sequel to 'We Have A Lot To Talk About'. Almost everyone who reviewed it thought I should pick up the thread of the story again. Apparently leaving Clark heartbroken on the roof a skyscraper was too much to handle... :-)

For this to make sense, a month has passed since then. Basically, it picks up after the first scene in Doomsday and then goes AU. It's still the same story though, I promise. And another promise, though it won't seem like it at first, this **IS** a Clois story. It has to be. I just needed to set up the situation, which took a lot longer than I thought. We'll get to the good Clois parts soon, though...

Anyway, enough rambling from me. I hope you enjoy, and please review.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. If I did, Jimmy would still be with us.

**Summary**: Clark receives a cryptic message from Chloe. Desperate to save her, Clark heeds the message, and pays a terrible price. The only person who can save him, body and soul... is the one person he swore he would never let in.

* * *

**'Under Pale Moonlight'**

* * *

Point – Counterpoint:

"_Somewhere out there, beneath the pale moonlight… _

_Someone's thinking of me… and loving me tonight."_

_Fievel – An American Tail_

_&_

"_You ever dance with the devil in the pale moonlight?"_

_The Joker - Batman_

~*~

…**one…**

~*~

_May 13__th__, 2009_

Words shouldn't echo through your life.

They just shouldn't.

And yet, they do.

Clark Kent stood at the huge feed-loading window of his loft – his mind, body, every pulsing nerve focused on two messages – a thousand years apart.

The first – a warning.

The other – a plea.

Clark was left feeling like he was facing an important choice. Though, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was.

He clutched at the piece of paper rolled in his fist. Forcing himself to focus, he chose to ignore it, for now, and replayed his conversation with Rokk in his mind. Though it had happened only hours ago, Clark already found the scene blurring, fading, sending mere flashes to the forefront like some kind of taunt.

"_Brainiac is gone, but so are you…"_

"… _save Chloe…"_

"_Her connection to Doomsday…"_

And always – that one statement that echoed like no other.

"_Tomorrow is the day you die."_

It seemed to Clark that he'd spent his entire life fighting his destiny. Little wonder, if this was it. To die in a hopeless fight, against an enemy that could not be killed.

And to have it happen _now!_

Clark felt like screaming his rage to the stars until they shook loose from the night sky.

Just when he'd found a place he belonged.

Just when he'd taken the mantle of hero and placed it upon his own shoulders.

Just when he'd…

Just when he'd found love.

As happened so often these days, the image of Lois swam before his eyes. Closing his eyes, Clark felt a lump forming in his throat, and his heart breaking all over again. The messages forgotten, his mind drifted back to that night in Lois' apartment – over a month ago now…

He'd decided to tell her everything. About his dual-identity, his heritage, and – most important – the fact that somewhere along the way he'd fallen hopelessly in love with her. His path had seemed so clear when he knocked on her door. Lois herself was buzzing, mere hours after her first conversation with the Red-Blue Blur. Then, in the space of mere heartbeats, she'd shattered all his illusions of a normal life – with her, or anyone else…

"_He's still just a guy, Lois,"_ he'd said, referring to his alter-ego.

"_But I don't want him to be _just a guy_," Lois persisted, "Talking to him tonight – as great as it was – it almost… took away from it. I know how stupid that sounds considering I all but harassed this guy, trying to get him to talk to me. I put yours and Jimmy's life in danger to flush him out, and now I sound ungrateful, but I think…" she paused, gathering her thoughts, "I think I need him on that pedestal. I think we all do. Because if he steps off of it, and walks around down here with us… what do we have to strive for? To live up to?"_

That was the moment everything changed. Clark knew then that he couldn't shatter that dream she'd created – of the faceless hero who brought hope to Metropolis. So he'd picked up the tiny pieces of his heart, and locked them away. For her. Always for her.

And now…

Clark realised he was gripping the sill of the window so tight he was digging gouges in the wood. Glancing at his hand, he remembered the note. The other message.

From Chloe.

Unfolding the single, hand-printed sheet, Clark read it again. He hadn't heard a thing from Chloe since she'd called to tell him she was running away with Davis Bloome. Crawling into the belly of the beast with the beast itself.

Not a word until that night when he got home, and found a plain, unmarked envelope sitting brazenly on the kitchen table. There was no doubt it was from Chloe. His years working at the _Torch_ and copying her history notes meant he knew her handwriting as well as his own.

The message itself was simple, if a little cryptic.

_'Clark,_

_Remember Halloween night, seventh grade?_

_The old foundry? _

_Remember what we did there? _

_Meet me at midnight, in the spot where we made the pact. _

_There are things to say._

_Wrongs to right._

_Chloe.'_

Halloween, seventh grade. Thirteen long years ago. Thirteen years that separated him from a whole other life. Oh yes, Clark remembered. But, looking back, the memories might as well have belonged to someone else.


	2. Chapter 2

~*~

…**two…**

~*~

_October 31__st__, 1996_

"What in the name of all that is unholy are you supposed to be?"

Clark and Pete, with the aid of their flashlights, were trying to make sense of Chloe's outfit. The frizzy brown wig, the tight leopard print ski pants and the wrap-round yellow top that covered – well, nothing really.

"You said come as something scary," said Chloe, "Duh!"

"Duh yourself!" said Pete, "The question stands."

"I gotta admit, I'm stumped, Chlo," said Clark.

"Honestly, don't the two of you have even a trace of interest in popular culture?" the blonde – well, brunette for now, was obviously getting annoyed.

"We live in Smallville," said Pete, "Popular culture is the annual livestock show."

"I'm Scary Spice!" Chloe announced, "From the Spice Girls!"

Clark – dressed as Frankenstein, looked at Pete, dressed as the Wolfman, and two of the greatest figures in classic horror mythology shrugged, and said: "Who?"

"Aargh!" Chloe bent down, grabbed the handle of the picnic basket and pounded up the metal staircase.

For this Halloween rendezvous, they'd chosen one of the outer buildings at the old foundry. The abandoned plant was a suitable enough place to be at Halloween as it is, squatting over the outskirts of town like a rotting industrial monster. Clark and Pete, chuckling to themselves, followed Chloe up to the roof, where she was already spreading the chequed blanket she'd brought along.

"Still don't see the point in this," said Pete, stretching himself out beside her, "We could be at Mickey Gardner's party right now, but noooo…. Chloe thinks we're about to make first contact!"

"You didn't have to come if you didn't want to," Chloe pointed out.

Pete chose not to comment on that. The truth was, no party would be much fun without his two best friends.

"Besides," Chloe went on, "My sources tell me there's a 75% chance of another meteor shower tonight!"

"Your sources?" Clark scoffed, "Chloe… the guy's who write for the _Wichita Whistler_ don't count as _sources!_"

"Just wait," said Chloe, adopting an obdurate tone, "You'll be singing a different tune by the end of the night."

"Let's examine the evidence," said Pete, reaching into the basket and handing out cans of soda, "These are the same guys who wrote about Elvis windsurfing at a competition in Paraguay…"

"So?"

"So, Paraguay's land-locked!"

"Oh."

"The same guys who think that aliens landed during the first meteor shower and now, they're convinced those same aliens have laid the groundwork for the second wave of the invasion! Which just happens to be tonight! Halloween!"

"Look, if all you're going to do is sit here complaining all night, then you might as well…!"

Clark cut in before the two found their way to a full-blown argument.

"Relax, Chlo," he said, "We're just saying… there's no such thing as aliens."

It would be two years before Clark found out just how ironic this statement was.

They fell into their usual, easy routine after that. Laying black on the blanket, counting stars and chatting about monster movies, and the possibility of aliens, and candy, and the possibility of aliens, and what high school would be like, and the possibility of… well, you get the point.

"I don't think I'm going to like high school," Chloe announced, tucking into the third bag of Doritos.

"Why not?" asked Pete, "High School's the place to be! Football games, and pep rallies and cheerleaders…:

"You've watched _Grease_ a few too many times," Chloe informed him.

"Clark, back me up here," Pete pleaded, "Tell her it's going to be great!"

"I guess," said Clark.

"You guess?" Pete was incredulous, "What's wrong with you guys? We've been waiting for this forever! We're gonna be waiting for a while, but still… it's the next step, you know?"

"I just think everything's going to change," said Chloe, "I mean… what if we're not friends anymore?"

"Why wouldn't we be friends?" said Clark.

Jerking upright to lean on his elbow, he fixed her with a hurt look – as though she'd just announced that she didn't think he was cool enough to hang out with anymore.

"Come on," said Chloe, "Everyone knows that's what happens in high school. People find different interests – there's more kids and you make new friends… it just happens."

"I think that's crap!" said Pete.

"I agree," said Clark.

An uncomfortable silence followed. The three friends were lost in their own thoughts until Pete stood up, letting them know that he had to find a bathroom. Clark and Chloe watched the stars.

"I can't help but believe," said Chloe, after a while.

"In what?"

"That there's life out there… somewhere… The universe is just so… big!"

"And you wanna be a writer?" Clark chuckled, "Of all the ways you could describe the universe, you come up with… big!"

"Shut up!"

"Hey guys!"

Clark and Chloe were startled when they heard Pete calling from ground level. Hurrying over to the edge of the roof, they peered down into the gloom. They located Pete by the beam of his flashlight.

"What is it?" Clark called.

"Come take a look at this!"

Clark led the way back down the stairs. Keeping away from the walls, where the pale moonlight at least attempted to banish the shadows, they made their way across the foundry yard, to the entrance of what looked like a large storage house. Pete was crouched a few feet from the door, looking at a hole in the ground.

"What is it?" asked Chloe, coming up beside him.

Pete had levered open an old trapdoor and was leaning over the entrance.

"Looks like tunnels running all the way underneath this place!" Pete looked up at them, his eyes shining brighter than the light he carried, "I wonder where it goes…"


	3. Chapter 3

~*~

…**three…**

~*~

_May 13__th__, 2009_

Clark groaned, as he pulled himself out of the memories. Just the thought of how they used to be brought on ache of longing that he couldn't squash. Himself, Chloe, Pete… The Musketeers – as Pete nicknamed them the first day of high school. That in itself wasn't an auspicious beginning. Whitney had overheard him, and for the next several months had referred to the members of their little gang as _Orifice, Porthetic, _and_ Fartagnon! _Clark found a wry smile from somewhere. Nobody ever accused Whitney Fordman of being incredibly original or witty.

The point was he _did_ remember what had happened that night. It had changed his life, and the way he saw himself. So, how could he ever forget? It seemed Chloe remembered too… and now she was calling to him – just when he thought he'd lost her.

What could she want, though? If she wanted to talk, why didn't she just come to the farm? Why the foundry?

Clark didn't know… but after all the time he'd spent searching for her, desperate to get her back – _to_ _save her – _he couldn't let this opportunity slip. He checked his watch. Five minutes to midnight. Five minutes until…

"_Tomorrow is the day you die…"_

Clark hesitated. But only for an instant. Some things were more important.

~*~*~*~*~

The foundry looked exactly the same. The rusted gates, long since detached from their hinges. The remnants of the fence curled in on itself. The buildings mere husks, homes for shadows in the moonlight.

Clark walked at normal pace, ducking through the various buildings, until he came to the trapdoor.

It was open.

Light spilled out of the hole, and Clark was wary as he approached. He looked down. There was the iron ladder, bracketed into the wall – just as he remembered.

"Chloe!" he called.

No answer.

She had to be here, though, Clark reasoned. Who else would have opened the door, and turned on the lights? Clark couldn't shake an uneasy feeling. There were no lights thirteen years ago. Something had changed. Maybe more than he knew.

Where was Chloe?

The answer to that was obvious. Shaking his head, Clark tried – somewhat unsuccessfully – to banish old childhood fears as he stepped down into the hole, his boots finding the first rung of the ladder.

He paced himself, climbing slowly… almost as if he were travelling not into the bowels of the earth, but back in time itself…


	4. Chapter 4

~*~

…**four…**

~*~

_October 31__st__, 1996_

"Pete… I don't like this."

Chloe instinctively shrank back into the protective bulk of Clark, her steps slowing down as they wound their way through the dank, musty, and very dark tunnel. Pete, who was in the lead, swung round with that familiar smirk on his face. Clark, however, noticed the tell-tale gleam of fear in Pete's eyes.

"Aw, come on, Chlo… where's your sense of adventure?"

Pete's voice was just a tad over pitched, and Clark's suspicions were confirmed. Pete was scared. Clark couldn't blame him. He was a little scared himself. The tunnel seemed to go on forever.

"You had your Halloween fun, now let's get out of here!" Chloe seemed on the verge of all-out flight.

The only thing that kept her from charging back to the trap door was, ironically, fear. She didn't want to go alone. Pete, though, was nothing if not stubborn. They'd started this, and they would finish it.

"Just a little bit further," he urged, "This thing has to lead somewhere."

"It's not a sewer tunnel," said Clark, "And I don't see any water pipes. No electricity either."

"It's a dark scary tunnel, built to be a dark, scary tunnel!" Chloe stated with absolute certainty.

Peering into the gloom that the combined power of their three flashlights barely pierced, they inched their way along. Eventually, Pete stopped when they came to a T-junction, with the tunnel continuing left and right.

"Which way?" he asked, swinging his flashlight first this way, then that.

"Back," said Clark, "If we start taking random turns we could get lost down here."

"I don't wanna get lost down here!" said Chloe.

"Come on, just a little further."

"No, Pete!" Chloe marched forward to grab his arm, "We've had enough! This tunnel doesn't go anywhere, so there's no point in – Eeeeek!"

"Chloe!"

Clark reacted instinctively, as Chloe seemed to disappear downwards, like a puppet with it's strings cut. Though he was fully ten feet away, Clark crossed the distance in an instant. The feeling, the sensation, was beyond weird. Like the world put on pause. Just as Chloe's head fell below the lip of the hole that had suddenly sprouted in the floor, Clark dove, latching onto her wrist. Chloe's weight snapped at his shoulder joint as he stopped her fall. Unfortunately, Clark hadn't calculated the effect of his own weight. The portion of the floor that Chloe had fallen through wasn't stone, like the rest of the tunnel. It was metal. Rusted metal. And the force of Clark's body bearing down on it caused it to peel in on itself with a tearing noise. Clark lurched, falling further into the hole, and Chloe screamed again. Clark felt Pete move behind him.

"I got you, Clark!" Pete called, wedging his fingers around Clark's belt and leaning backward.

"Yeah, but who's got you?" Clark shot back.

There was no way that Pete, slight as he was, could possibly pull both Clark and Chloe out. Chloe was already blabbering as she swung in darkness. She still had her flashlight clutched in her hand, and it's dancing beam illuminated what looked to be a large, man-made cavern. It was just a massive stone room, with the ceiling – through which they were now dangling – forty feet above the concrete floor. If Chloe fell…

Clark didn't even want to think about it.

"Chloe! Chloe, look at me!" he called.

It seemed to take a tremendous amount of effort, but Chloe managed to tear her eyes away from the floor – so far down – and look up at him. Her cheeks were slick with terrified tears, her mouth pulled into a painful grimace.

"You're gonna be okay," he assured her, "I'm gonna pull you out. Pete? Have you got me?"

"I got you!" came the answer.

Clark took five deep, quick breaths, and heaved. He was hanging almost straight down, his entire torso beyond the lip of the hole, and the effort of levering his arm up, with Chloe's dead weight hanging from it, tore a scream from his lips. He managed to bring his arm up sideways, almost ninety degrees, before the pain became too much and he let it drop again.

This time, Chloe's scream echoed off the cavern walls as she felt herself fall back again. But Clark held his grip. He felt himself slide forward another few inches, and heard Pete's grunts as he tugged back on Clark's belt, trying to keep his friends from going over the edge.

"Lemme go, Clark…" Chloe blubbered, "You can't pull me out… you'll fall! Lemme go!"

Clark was too shocked to respond for a second. He stared at Chloe. In the darkness, he could just make out her features. She was beyond terrified, but her only thoughts were for Clark. He gritted his teeth.

"Never!" he swore.

Something like a roar tore from Clark's throat as he jerked his arm up again. This time, it was different. Chloe's weight seemed to disappear and he hauled her up level until she could grab hold of the edge and pull herself out. When he was sure she was back on solid ground, Clark used his sneakered feet to inch backwards and roll over onto the stone floor. He just lay there for a second, getting his breath back.

His thoughts were fuzzy, swirling inside his head. He couldn't believe what just happened. First, the speed he'd used when Chloe fell. Then, the strength he found to pull her up. They came from some unknown place inside him. A place that scared, and exhilirated him all at the same time. Strange things like that had been happening for as long as Clark could remember. But never in front of anyone but his parents. Clark didn't know what it meant, but for the first time… he was grateful for these confusing… abilities? They had saved Chloe's life.

Chloe was sobbing. Pete was on his knees, his arms around her shoulders as her tears leaked over his shirt.

"I'm sorry…" Pete was mumbling, "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry…"

Chloe nodded, indicating he didn't have to apologise anymore. She brought her arm up, and wiped at her face. She looked at Clark.

"You didn't let me go," she said.

It was almost an accusation.

"I never will," said Clark.

He locked on to Chloe's gaze, and held it – trying to convey the absolute truth in the statement. Chloe seemed to read it, and she nodded, offering him a small, trembling smile.

"I almost lost you guys," Pete seemed close to tears himself, "All because I wanted to explore some stupid tunnel! If Clark hadn't…"

"It's okay, Pete," said Chloe, burrowing further into his arms, "I'm fine. Thanks Clark."

Clark nodded, "Can we go now?"

"Not yet," said Pete.

Clark and Chloe looked at him. Their friend had a fierce, determined expression on his face. He almost glared at Chloe.

"You said we might not be friends when we get to high school," said Pete, "Well… for a second there, I knew what it would feel like to lose you, and I'm never gonna let that happen again!"

"Pete, it's okay," said Chloe, "We were just talking. It doesn't mean…"

"No, it's not okay!" Pete insisted, "It's not! I say we make a pact. Here and now. We'll be friends forever!"

"Aren't we a little old for best friend pacts?" asked Clark.

"Not if we mean it," said Pete.

He held out his fist, pinkie extended. Clark was suddenly overcome with an eerie, familiar feeling. Almost the same feeling he'd had when he'd made that dash to get to Chloe. Like the world slowed down. Somehow, he knew that this moment, as innocuous and impulsive as it was… was important.

He extended his own hand, pinkie out, curling it around Pete's. Chloe followed suit, her tiny finger barely making it halfway round.

"Best friends forever…" they murmured.

And they meant it.


	5. Chapter 5

~*~

…**five…**

~*~

_May 13__th__, 2009_

As he strode down the tunnel, Clark couldn't shake the feeling that he was that same, naïve, thirteen year old boy again. Tensed and frightened of where the tunnel would lead. It was a ridiculous feeling. Clark himself couldn't be more different. He was a lot closer to the ceiling, for one, and a fully aware of his strength and abilities. The tunnel itself didn't match his memories.

A string of bright halogen lights had been inserted just below the lip of the ceiling. The floor was graded smooth and offered barely an echo as he walked. He rounded a slight bend, and then he saw her.

Standing near the spot where she so nearly lost her life all those years ago. She had her back to him, with her head bowed. She was staring at the floor. Clark frowned. The hole had been replaced with another trapdoor, standing open. Chloe's eyes were fixed on it. Clark knew she was reliving that experience, plunging into darkness with no way of knowing that her friend would catch her.

"Chloe?"

She stiffened, but didn't turn around. Clark closed the distance between them and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Chloe," he said, again, gently turning her around.

When he saw her face, it was like the image blurred… the older, more hardened Chloe superimposed on the younger, slightly more-freckled face of the girl she once was. Then, as now, a streak of wet tears ran down her cheeks. Her lips pulled back in pain.

Clark drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her – desperate to transfer his own strength into her slender frame. To offer some comfort. Some hope.

"It's okay," he crooned… "I'm here."

Still, Chloe didn't speak. But she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, twisting her fingers into the fabric and burying her face in his chest. Clark could feel the sobs bubbling up inside her, and just held her.

"Let it out," he urged.

And she did. She cried like he'd never known her to cry. Great, wracking sobs that shook her whole body. Eventually, she pulled away, composing herself with a strength that surprised him.

"Thanks for coming," she said.

"I'll always be there when you call me, Chlo," he said, "You know that."

She nodded, "I wanted you to see this," she said.

She pointed at the hole. Clark didn't move.

"Why?"

"LuthorCorp built it. It's another one of their facilities. Like 33.1 and Black Creek."

"I don't care about that, Chloe," he said, "What happened to you? Davis… did he hurt you?"

"Not physically," she answered, "He wouldn't do that."

"Where is he?"

"Star City. We were holed up in a motel in the bay district."

"Why did you go with him? You know how dangerous he is."

"I don't care!" she yelled, suddenly fierce, "I don't what he does to me! I care what he does to you!"

"That's not your problem, Chloe. It's mine. Davis is a Kryptonian! That makes him my responsibility!"

"Not anymore."

Clark was confused. "I thought that's why you came back," he said, "Why you sent me that message. I thought you finally came to your senses."

"I came back to let you know that I meant it."

"Meant what?"

"What I said that night. The pact we made. We're best friends forever Clark. And that carries responsibilities on both sides. If you fight Davis, he'll kill you. I can't let that happen."

"Chloe, what are you…?"

"Just look in the hole," she told him.

Clark studied her and, for a moment, it was like he didn't recognise her. Her face was drawn into a cold, blank mask. Her usually expressive eyes were clear, but devoid of any emotion. It scared Clark more than anything ever had. Again, Chloe pointed at the trapdoor. Clark decided he wasn't going to make any progress until he did what she told him, so he crouched down and peered into the cavern.

Only, it wasn't a cavern anymore. The walls were whitewashed, and a bright red carpet covered the floor. In one corner, directly below, was a large bed. In the other, a sturdy desk. There was a refrigerator, a table, a set of chairs and a couch. It looked like an apartment. But Clark noted the complete absence of a door and knew immediately that this was no apartment… it was a cell.

Clark rose to his feet, "Chloe, I don't…"

His words died in his throat as soon as he turned to face her. For long, long moments his brain couldn't register what his eyes were telling him. Chloe had her arm extended and in her hand… was a gun. Clark just stared. It made no sense. Why the hell would she be pointing a gun at him?

"I meant it, Clark…" she said, barely a whisper, "I'm sorry…"

She pulled the trigger.

Later, Clark would tell himself that he should have ducked, moved, something… used his speed to get out of the way. But years of taking bullets on the chest, only for them to bounce off had eroded that all-too-human sense of self-preservation. He just stood there.

That's why he was so surprised when he felt the bullet slide into his shoulder on chains of fire. Pain whipped through his body like an electric current dancing along the path of his veins – all the way to his heart – which skipped a beat. His eyes flared, his mouth dropping open in a scream that never came. Unthinking, he took a step backward, and fell into nothingness.


	6. Chapter 6

~*~

…**six…**

~*~

His face plastered to the tacky red carpet, bleeding and in an inordinate amount of pain and shock, Clark's first thought was:

"_Thank God for strategically placed beds!"_

His second thought was:

"_Chloe shot me! What the hell?"_

Grinding his teeth together until his gums throbbed, Clark managed to turn over onto his back. The bed had saved his life, but the resulting ten foot bounce and face-plant into the hard floor – with a bullet wound – had been pain like he'd rarely felt. Not quite kryptonite, but not much better.

He was struggling to breathe, and his vision was misty, like he was looking through opaque glass. Summoning every bit of strength he had, Clark brought himself up into a sitting position. He felt hot tears coursing down his cheeks.

The pain.

Slowly, with trepidation, he lifted his right hand and prodded at the spot underneath the wound.

"Aaargh!"

Okay, bad idea.

He had to think.

What had just happened? Was that… was that really Chloe? Was she possessed? She looked like Chloe. Sounded like Chloe. But he'd been fooled by that in the not-too-distant past. Chloe would never shoot him. She wouldn't. Except…

There was a bigger question.

How had she shot him?

Clark balled his fists into the bed sheets and pulled himself onto the mattress. Panting with every inch of movement. He lifted his shirt, trying to examine the wound. It was ugly. Bruises ran all the way down his arm, and the skin around the hole was puckered and split, oozing blood. Clark squinted, trying hard not to pass out.

That's when he noticed it.

Tiny flecks dancing along the trails of blood.

Blue flecks.

Oh, God!

_Oh, God, no!_

That confirmed it. It had to be Chloe.

Who else knew about blue kryptonite?

Clark looked up. The trapdoor was closed. She was gone.

Pain, and confusion, and grief and anger flooded him, and he screamed:

"_Chloe!"_

~*~*~*~*~

It took Clark fifteen minutes to work up the strength, and the will, to examine his fancy prison. He shuffled around, first making his way to the desk. There was a briefcase on it, and a post-it plastered to the surface that read: _'Clark'_.

Clark hesitated before opening it. He didn't want any more surprises. And he was human now. He could be hurt. Badly. He was a case-in-point.

Shaking his head, Clark reached for the lock. Chloe wouldn't try to kill him. At least, he didn't think so. But then again, he didn't think she would shoot him either, and he'd been proven wrong about that.

Clark snapped the locks back and opened the case. Inside was… a first-aid kit. A stocked one. There was also another note, in Chloe's handwriting. Clark picked it up, reading it swiftly.

The note explained what supplies were provided, and how Clark could use them to treat his own wound. There was a packet of something called 'Celox' to cauterise the wound and stop the bleeding. Alongside this little titbit of information was a warning that it would sting when applied. Clark grunted. Like she was really worried about inflicting pain.

Clark wasn't too stubborn to heed her advice though and, following the step by step instructions, he first cleaned, then cauterised, then plugged and finally strap-bandaged the hole in his shoulder. It was a bit more difficult repeating the procedure on the exit wound in his back but after some effort – and a few dizzy spells that toyed with the precipice of fully passing out – Clark managed. Chloe also included a selection of very strong painkillers – and after twenty minutes the pain ebbed away to a dull, but tolerable throbbing.

Grateful for the relief, Clark turned his mind to his next problem – getting out.

It wouldn't be easy.

No, Clark had to amend that, it would be impossible. The only exit was forty feet above him, and the walls and floor were made of solid stone. Clark couldn't be a hundred percent sure of that fact. If he was still in possession of his powers he could have x-rayed the room, but Clark was willing to bet that LuthorCorp wouldn't have used it as a cell if it was in any way fallible to a breakout.

Despair touched him then.

Clark sank down on the edge of the bed, fighting another wave of angry tears.

How could Chloe do this to him? How could she trap him down here? How could she choose Davis over him? The longer the night went on, the more inclined Clark was to side with Jimmy in the whole breakup scenario.

Keeping his left arm cocked close to his abdomen, Clark placed his right hand on his knee and leaned forward, trying to control his breathing. His left forearm brushed against an object in his pocket. Clark frowned.

Then he swore.

Ladies and gentlemen, the winner for the Dumb-As-Clark Award is…

Clark hurriedly fumbled in his pocket and dug out his cellphone – telling himself that the pain and shock had caused him to forget that he had it on him. Flipping the phone open, he noticed the battery graphic flashing on empty. Clark couldn't even remember the last time he'd charged it. Swiftly, he whipped through the scenarios.

He could send a text. That would take less battery power, but there was no guarantee that it would be read right away. That left a call. But to whom…?

Clark didn't even hesitate.

Punching speed-dial 1, he put the phone in his ear and prayed the battery would last.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four…

"Lois?"

"Smallville…?" her voice was thick with sleep, "It's after midnight, what the hell?"

"Lois, I'm sorry, but you need to listen to me."

"No, I don't! And I don't appreciate midnight pranks either! I have half a mind to–"

"Lois, for God's sakes, shut up! I'm trapped!"

"What?" all traces of weariness vanished from her voice.

"I don't have time… my battery… just listen. There's a foundry on the east side of Smallville. The entrance is at the north-west corner. Third building in, there's a trapdoor in front of the door. There are tunnels underneath. Follow the tunnels until you hit a wall, and you'll find another trapdoor. Bring a rope. I'll explain later. Have you got all that? Lois…?"

Clark pulled the phone away, and stared, dumbstruck, at the blank screen.

It died. It died on him. But when?

He couldn't take it anymore. A shriek of frustration ripped from his throat as he threw the phone at the wall, watching in grim satisfaction as it fractured into a thousand useless pieces. The movement jerked on the bandage in his arm, though, sending a piercing stab of pain right through his left side. Clark fell back on the bed.

It was no use.

He was trapped!


	7. Chapter 7

~*~

…**seven…**

~*~

The dimensions of the room were a full forty strides by thirty-three. Clark knew this because – despite the hopelessness dragging him down and the effects of the painkillers sending ripples of drowsiness over his mind – he refused to lie down. Refused to sleep. Refused to give up. He paced the room, examining everything. There was food in the refrigerator. Chloe had at least thought to feed him.

Every act of decency, of thoughtfulness on her part only made him angrier. It just showed how carefully she'd planned this. His literal downfall. Turning his attention to the desk, Clark sat down in the chair. He pulled the drawer open, surprised to find a stack of papers inside. Lifting them out, he saw that they were sketches. Beautiful sketches, actually.

The first was a portrait, in heavy shadow, of a woman. An older woman… maybe in her forties, with long hair and a knowing smile. It reminded Clark of his mother. There were others… A maple tree standing guard over a babbling brook… A townhouse on a leafy street…

But there was something about the sketches that bothered him. The way they were drawn, there was something… wrong with them. As though the pencil strokes weren't quite right. Clark squinted at the picture of the woman. Something there…

Standing, Clark crossed the floor until he was standing underneath the light jacketed into the wall. Lifting the page until it was only an inch from his face, Clark finally saw what the problem was. The pencil strokes… weren't strokes at all.

They were letters. Written so minutely, they were impossible to see unless Clark held it close and squinted just so…

Clark was amazed. The amount of time it must have taken to do this…

The penny dropped. He knew who had drawn the picture. The only person with nothing _but_ time in this cold, lonely place… The previous occupant of the cell. The prisoner who came before him.

His weariness forgotten, Clark tried to make out a pattern and found that the letters did, indeed, become words… and the words sentences. Clark turned the page sideways, and read the angle along the woman's neck…

"_Six months now…" _it read, _"The quiet is the worst. It's not the same quiet as home. In Ohio – is that where I'm from? Sometimes I can't remember. Back home, there's always sounds… the animals out in the fields, the wind, the creaking of the house… there's always something. There's nothing here. This is the quiet of the grave…"_

Clark shuddered and dropped the page. He rushed over to the desk, and chose another picture. This one of a dog – a terrier, it looked like. Resuming his position under the light, Clark began to read again:

"_They came again today, the men in the masks. They started with the questions – again – wanting answers I don't have. Then the needles. They think it'll do something. It doesn't do anything. It doesn't cure me. They said they were trying to cure me. They can't cure me. I still have the dreams. I still keep changing… into him! The last time I changed, they were in the room. I hurt one of them. Broke his leg. It's getting worse. I think it's the needles. They're not trying to cure me… they're trying to set him free…"_

A red mist descended as Clark balled the paper up and let it drop to the floor. If he had his powers, he would have burned a hole through the wall. Another 33.1 facility… where Lex's minions had performed experiments on the meteor-infected… tortured them… tried to push back the boundaries of their sanity until all that was left was the rage and the power.

Clark resolved that if he ever got out of here, he would patch things up with Oliver. He didn't forgive him – murdering Lex was wrong and Clark couldn't forget that – but what the team did was important. Stopping facilities like this one… even if it saved one soul from the torment that this tortured artist had experienced… it was worth it.

Clark was so caught up in his thoughts, that at first he didn't react when he heard the noise. Metal on metal… a grinding, wrenching sound.

At first, he looked around, trying to identify the source. The cell looked exactly the same. Then he looked up. The trapdoor was open, and familiar face was staring down at him.

"Lois!"

The relief that poured through him was like a drug – so powerful that, for a second, Clark thought he would collapse.

"Clark? What's… what's going on? How did you get down there?"

"I fell… after I was shot."

"You were shot?"

"You got my message," said Clark, deciding not to dwell on that particular incident, "You heard what I said."

"Yeah. I tried to call you back, but it went to voicemail, so I came straight over."

"You got here from Metropolis that fast?"

Did Lois have super speed?

"I wasn't in Metropolis," she told him, "I was at Chloe's."

"Why?"

"Look, Clark, we can trade stories later, okay? Let's just get you out of there. I have a rope!"

"Best plan I ever heard," said Clark.

Lois' face disappeared, and Clark felt his heart lurch. He knew it was just a reaction. Lois was still there, but he found that he didn't want to stop looking at her. He wanted her face right there… where he could convince himself that she was real.

"I can't find anywhere to tie this!" her voice echoed down, "There aren't any pipes or anything!"

"There must be!" he called back, "Chlo… _someone_ was already down here!"

"Well, they must have been able to fly, because… wait!"

"What is it?!"

Almost as if in response, Clark saw the slender thread of a rope being lowered through the hole. Rushing over to the bed, Clark climbed on top, reaching up to grab the rope as it came level.

That's when he hit a snag.

His left arm, though not too uncomfortable right now, wouldn't be able to support him on a thirty feet haul up to the ceiling. And there was no way Lois would be able to pull him out by herself. Clark groaned.

"What are you waiting for?" Lois called down to him, "An engraved invitation?"

The familiar bite in her tone forced Clark to think. Bending down, he looped the rope around his leg, and tied it in place. Then, using an old trick he'd learned in the scouts a long time ago – Bart would go into apoplexy if he found out that Clark, at one time, actually _was_ a Boy Scout – he twisted the rope until it formed a kind of cradle. Stepping into it, Clark smiled when he saw the loop draw tight – like a dog leash. That would hold his weight at least. Clark wound a section around his right forearm to steady his upper body, and began to climb.

Using a slow, rhythmic motion, Clark would pause for a beat, then shoot his hand upwards, grabbing a higher section. He would pull himself up, pause, and then repeat the process. After fifteen feet, he was beyond exhausted, and beginning to lose his vision again. The muscles all along his back were warped like corded steel and his head felt heavy. But Clark knew that to stop was to fail. He kept going.

"That's it, Clark," for once, Lois' voice was soft, encouraging, "Just keep coming. Steady now…"

She repeated it, like a mantra, and Clark found himself focusing on her voice, rather than the distance. Using it like a snake-charmer's lullaby to draw him up, up… to freedom. He was only a couple of feet from the entrance when Lois reached in, grabbing hold of his wrist. Clark paused. Sweat was dripping from his face like a faucet. Every breath brought a tight clamping into his chest. Gripping the rope in his right hand, Clark swung his leg round in quick arcs, tightening the loop on his foot.

"Come on, Clark, just a little further…"

Clark forced himself to take deep breaths, locking his eyes on the section of rope he was aiming for. He counted to three, and lunged…

And missed.

The dizziness must have got to him, because all his despairing fingers clutched was air. He felt himself falling backwards.

"_Clark!"_

Lois grabbed at his wrist and, on instinct, Clark grabbed hold of hers.

Mistake.

Clark's fall continued, and this time, he took Lois with him. She didn't even get a chance to scream as Clark's momentum dragged her through the hole and out into empty space. They plunged down, until the loop on Clark's foot caught, snapping their progress and leaving them dangling from the ceiling.

Clark, forgetting any pain in his terror, caught Lois' eye. She was refusing to look down.

"Lois… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Clark…" it was barely a croak, pure fright clenching at her throat.

Then the rope snapped.

This time, Lois did scream.


	8. Chapter 8

~*~

…**eight…**

~*~

Four and a half minutes.

That's how long it took for Lois to start screaming at him.

She'd just fallen a shade under thirty feet. She had bruises on her shoulder and upper arm. She was in shock. But none of that seemed to get in the way when it came to tearing him a new one.

"Answers!" she yelled, "I want answers! We'll start with what the hell are you doing here? Who shot you? What is this place? Did you really have to pull me in with you, and who cut this rope?"

She held up the end of the rope and Clark could clearly see that it wasn't frayed… it was sliced most of the way through. A sneaking suspicion crept into his mind.

"That's not the rope you brought with you, is it?"

"No," Lois confirmed those suspicions, "It was already tied to a pipe down the tunnel."

Clark nodded. Chloe had even planned for the contingency of someone finding him. They'd stumble on the rope, toss it down, and the rope would snap. Clark couldn't believe the level Chloe had gone to. He could almost picture her at her laptop, calculating his weight and how much force it would take to sever the rope. He grunted as his anger settled into a low, deep boil that he was sure would explode the next time he laid eyes on his 'best friend'.

"I'm waiting," said Lois.

She had her hands on her hips, and was tapping her foot. Clark sighed. He could give her the cliff-notes version, he supposed. She deserved that much, at least.

"This is one of Lex's old facilities," he told her, "They used to keep people with meteor-abilities in here while they experimented on them."

"Are you a meteor freak?"

"What?"

"Why else would you be down here?"

"It's abandoned, Lois," he said, "I don't know for how long."

"Then what…?"

"I don't think you want to hear it."

"Guess again."

"I'm serious, Lois. You don't want to know who put me here."

"Why not?"

"You just… you just don't."

"I'm sorry, but that's not good enough," she didn't sound angry. If anything, she just sounded… resigned, "Usually… I'd let you keep your secrets. They're yours to keep, and I trust that you wouldn't hide things from me just to be malicious, but… Clark, someone shot you. They trapped you down here. They went to a lot of trouble to get you out of the way, and I won't stand for that!"

"What?" Clark was shocked.

"Whoever it is, I want to know," her voice took on edge that scared him a little, "Whoever it is that decided they could try and kill the person I…"

She broke off suddenly, spinning away from him to glare at the wall. Clark's imagination went into overdrive, filling in the blank spaces at the end of the sentence she'd left hanging.

The person she… what?

Loved?

Cared about?

Planned to kill herself?

The last one was a possibility.

"Lois…"

"Just tell me, Clark."

She still wasn't looking at him. He walked over, and took her hand, leading her to the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"You need to sit down for this," he said.

Lois didn't protest. She sat down on the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes for a second, preparing herself, and then looked him square in the eye.

"It was Chloe."

Lois blinked.

That's all she did.

No explosion, no plea for clarification… nothing. She just blinked.

"Did you hear me?"

"I heard you."

"And…?"

"Chloe? Chloe shot you?"

"Yes."

"Are you on drugs?"

"What? No, Lois…" he actually managed a small smile, "You know I wouldn't make this up. She's… I don't know, she's changed. Being around Davis, it's done something to her…"

"I don't buy it."

"Listen to me…"

"No!" she cut him off, "If she did this, it's for a reason."

Clark opened his mouth to protest, but Lois surged on:

"I'm not saying she's right, or justified," said Lois, "But she must have had a reason. Just like there's a reason she ran away with Davis. It's not because she's in love with him. That much I know. She's well-aware of what Davis has done, but she chose to go with him anyway. And now she set this whole thing up, to trap you for some reason. I want to know what that reason is."

Clark ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. He hated it when she did that. Followed a train of thought along a path a normal person wouldn't even spot. It's what made her a good reporter. It 's also what made her a royal pain at this moment in time.

"You're right," he admitted, "But I can't tell you why."

"Excuse me?"

"I can't tell you."

Lois shot off the bed.

"You must be kidding!"

"No!"

"You're really not going to tell me?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

She jabbed him with her finger, right over the bandage. Clark yelled.

"Oh, sorry," she said, instantly contrite, "But don't think that lets you off. Why won't you tell me?"

"Because you asked me not to!"

Lois looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head.

"When did I do that?"

"Just… forget it, okay? We have to focus on getting out of here."

Lois looked like she really wanted to argue. He could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. He could actually see her filing this argument away under a folder marked _"To Be Continued"._

"Fine," she said, "How?"

"We call someone," said Clark, "Where's your phone?"

"In my car."

"Lois!"

Clark threw his arms up in exasperation. Then he shrieked like a little girl as the bandage tore away. Lois rushed forward, taking his good arm and steering him to the bed.

"Idiot…" she muttered, then, "Where did you get the bandages?"

Clark pointed at the briefcase. Lois hurried over, bringing the whole thing and setting it down next to Clark. Kneeling in front of him, she flicked through the contents with practised movements, barely glancing at the labels. Then she re-dressed the wound. It was considerably quicker, and less painful this time.

"You're good at that," he observed.

"I learned how from guys who have to do this while enemy soldiers are blasting RPG's over their heads."

Clark grinned. She was taking all this far better than he anticipated. She patted the bandage one last time, then raked her eyes down his chest, checking for other injuries. She stared at a spot just above his left hip. She didn't stop staring.

"Lois?"

More staring.

"Something wrong?"

"Damn straight something's wrong…"

"What?"

"The bullet wound…"

"It hurts like hell, if that's what you mean."

"No," she looked a little dazed, "The other one."

"What other…?"

The penny dropped. Clark bit his lip and shut his eyes. She'd noticed. Of course she'd noticed.

"Mannheim shot you," said Lois, "I saw it! But you don't…"

As if trying to reassure herself, she trailed a finger down his side, tracing a pattern over the smooth, uninjured skin.

"There's no skin graft. It's like it never happened."

Clark said nothing. He was panicking. His heart rate had picked up considerably and, in some vague corner of his mind he wondered if that would cause him to bleed out.

When he forced himself to meet Lois' gaze, he found no questions there. Just hurt.

"You're not going to tell me about this either, are you?" she said, sounding more lost and adrift than Clark had ever heard her.

He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face before cupping her cheek in his palm. Then he broke contact. He stood up, walking clear across the room as if some distance between them could wipe away the knowledge that he had caused that look in her eyes. That look of defeat. Of betrayal.

As he walked, he kicked the sketch that he'd dropped before Lois showed up. He stared at it. The person who drew-slash-wrote it had lost all hope. Had been trapped in this same cell with no one to turn to. Clark was luckier. He had Lois there. Someone he trusted. Someone he… loved.

And yet, he was still trapped. But in a cell of his own making.

He turned around. She hadn't moved. She was still on her knees, facing the bed, her shoulders slumped.

"I wanted to tell you," he said, "I wanted to tell you everything. I came to your apartment. It was… it was that night, you were watching M*A*S*H. You remember?"

Lois eased herself up from the floor in one smooth movement. Like a dancer. She faced him.

"The night I talked to the Blur."

Clark nodded.

"Do you remember what you told me? About him?"

"Yes."

Clark kept quiet. He just watched her. Saw her sift through her own words that night. Saw her trying to recall Clark's reactions, and then piece them together with what she knew – or thought she knew – now. He saw her come to the conclusion. The light actually went off behind her eyes, and somehow… Clark knew his life had changed forever.

"It's you," she whispered.

Her expression flickered. From surprise, to wonder… to… awe, and finally… to guilt.

"Oh my God…" She clapped a hand to her mouth, "I told you I didn't want him to be real. I told you… oh, my God…"

"Lois, it's okay."

"No, it's not," a couple of stray tears welled in the corners of her eyes, "I pushed you away. You were actually going to tell me that night?"

Clark nodded.

"Clark, I'm so sorry…"

"Lois… you didn't know."

"No, but I should have!" she insisted, "I should have pieced it together, and… even if I didn't, I knew something was up with you that night! I knew something was wrong! After that, you started to pull away from me."

Clark was taken aback.

"What? No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did," she didn't sound angry, "We went through the usual routines. Nothing changed on the surface, but… you stopped looking at me."

"I don't understand."

"Neither did I," she said, "I guess I didn't notice it until you stopped, but… you've always looked at me a certain way. I can't really describe it, but… it's almost like… like something reserved only for me, and after that night… it went away. Now I know why. I hurt you."

Clark bowed his head. He wasn't exactly sure what Lois was talking about. He certainly wasn't aware that he had a look that he kept for her alone, but… he had to admit that it was harder for him to be around her after that night. He'd been forced to keep up a pretence. He couldn't let her know that what she'd said about the Blur had torn through him like a laser – slicing away any hopes he'd built up of a future with her. It must have registered, because Lois had noticed.

"You're not asking any questions," he observed, "About who I am, or… what I am."

"Of course not," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I don't care."

Clark's brows knit together in an expression of pure puzzlement. Lois laughed a little.

"You're Clark," she said, with utter sincerity, "The fact that you're the Blur, well… it's a little mind-blowing, but… how you got your powers, that's the least of it. I know why you do what you do. I've already seen the hero's back-story."

"You have?"

She nodded, "Your parents. That's influence number one. Growing up in Smallville… you must have had a lot of practice."

"Some," he chuckled.

"But there is… something," said Lois, "If you're, well… you! Why can't you just blur right out of here? And why do you have an actual hole going straight through you? Does it take a while for you to heal?"

"No," he said, "Not usually, but Chloe… she used a certain type of meteor rock to make the bullets. They strip me of my abilities."

"Which means…?"

"That she knows about me?" he finished for her, "Yes, she does. And she used that knowledge."

Lois flopped back onto the bed, rubbing at her eyes.

"God, this is… this is too much!"

Clark hurried over to her. Taking a seat beside her, he stroked his finger down her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?" Lois rolled her eyes, "Or is that just your default setting? You're always apologising."

"I'm the reason you're stuck here," he explained, "Everything that's happened…"

Clark broke off. Now that his secret was out in the open, the same old regrets and feelings of guilt washed over him.

"In the hospital after Chloe's wedding, you asked me why these terrible things keep happening to us," he said, "Well, it's because of me. It happens around me. I'm the cause of so much pain, that I…"

Lois sat up. Grabbing hold of his chin, she turned him to look at her. Now she was angry.

When she spoke, it was with a slow, deliberate sense of menace.

"If I _ever_ hear you talking like that again…" she said, "I will personally bury you!"

"Lois…"

"You made it your mission to save a world that doesn't want to _be_ saved! Everyday you chase the shadows that hide the worst of us, and you try to bring the light. When everyone else is running scared you charge headfirst at the things that scare us the most! So don't you ever say that again!"

Clark gaped. He couldn't be certain, but he was pretty sure his heart rate had kicked up yet another notch. Looking into her eyes, hazel, with flecks of gold that glinted as the passion suffused her words, he found himself falling.

He'd been called a hero. He'd been told that it was his destiny to save the world.

But as her little tirade found a way through the walls he'd erected around himself so long ago, he found that he hadn't ever quite believed it… until now.

Lois," he said.

"Yes, Clark?"

She looked like she was preparing herself for another verbal assault, sure in the knowledge that he would do what he always did – deflect any kind of praise and lose himself in blame.

"I love you."

"Say what?"


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Alright, the next chapter, after the big: "I love you…" All I can say about this chapter is, I should have known. I put myself in this situation, forcing Lois and Clark to confront their feelings, so I have no one to blame but myself for the craziness that will now ensue. Thank you to everyone who's stuck by these stories… Mary Reed, ColleenJoy, Mandraco, Garces01, Kairan 1979, ellenemi, Fany1, kmccormick03, More Black, SamiaX, xncrzy… all of you. I wouldn't keep writing if not for the support.

This chapter is dedicated to ImpNo1, because the Lois in here reminds me of the Lois in your stories… and that's a great, great thing!

~*~

…**nine…**

~*~

"What the hell is the matter with you?!"

Lois shoved him away, not caring when he all but fell over, the pain in his shoulder jacking up another notch.

"What?"

"Are you doing this on purpose?"

"What?"

"Do you think it's funny, or something?"

"What?"

"You pick now! This moment! Of all moments in the history of a universe full of moments, you decide to just… just… say something like that?!"

"Well, I thought…"

"Oh, really? You think? You're capable of thinking? I never would have noticed!"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just…"

"And now you're apologising again!"

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! Can't we just… talk about something else? Please?" she looked more than a little panicked, "Like this… big, dark secret of yours! So, you're the Red-Blue Blur, huh? What's that like? Are there benefits? I mean… I guess there can't be medical or dental, but somebody should compensate you for wear and tear on like… jeans, and stuff! I'm sure you scrape a lot of them climbing trees to save kittens."

Clark just stared at her. Lois was notorious for her off-kilter rants, but this one was off the charts. She was pacing up and down, her hands flailing wildly and her eyes were so wide, he found himself counting the seconds in between blinks.

Lois herself hadn't skipped a beat, "Did you read that crap on the internet after my little Stiletto fiasco? People were all like… oh, Blur-Etto, they would be great together! Ha! Like you can even have a relationship with a blur. Well, of course you can, because it's you, but still… they don't know that! People on the net are just whackjobs, if you ask me…"

She finally seemed to run out of breath. When she looked at him, he noticed that the gleam of terror was still very evident in her eyes. She was looking at him in much the same way a hamstrung mouse would look at a hungry snake. But he couldn't understand it. She wasn't afraid of him because of his abilities.

Must be the other thing, then.

"Lois…" he didn't make any move to close the distance between them, afraid that he might spook her again and set off another tirade, "If you don't feel the same way, that's fine. I just… I dunno, in that moment, I wanted to tell you… how I felt."

"Why?"

The question was so simple, he was completely stumped for an answer for long, long seconds. His silence seemed to be affecting Lois in the strangest way. She was coiled and tense, drawing in on herself and she kept taking small, but frequent steps backward.

"Because…" he said, "It's true. I don't know when it happened, or how it happened, and I know how crazy it is, I mean… it's you! And me! We're… we're Lois and Clark! That'll never work! But…"

Clark trailed off. He was starting to rant a bit himself. Thoughts and emotions were just swirling through his entire being, and he was finding it difficult to pick one thread, on piece of coherence out of the chaos raging inside him.

"Other people have found out about me," he confessed, "In different ways, different circumstances, but no one… no one ever took it the way you did."

"Yeah," Lois muttered, "I'm the poster-child for coping right now…"

"You're not acting like this because of my secret."

"So, what? You're a mind-reader too?"

"Why does this scare you so much?" Clark demanded, "If you don't feel the same, just tell me. I can take it."

"Is that what you really think?"

"I'm not sure what to think right now, Lois, you're kinda acting like a crazy person."

"I'm the crazy one?"

Just like that, all traces of her earlier discomfort vanished and, as she marched in furious step to confront him Clark wished, just for a second, that it would come back.

"Why don't you take that hyped-up sense of analysis and focus it on yourself for a second?" she said, poking him again, right where it hurt, "I'm the one acting insane? We're stuck in Hitler's fantasy bunker! My cousin's off the reservation where she's just the discovered the joy of guns and meteor rock… probably on her little Bonny and Clyde trip across the country with a psychopath! We have no way of getting out of here! I just find out that you're a superhero and then you go and tell me you love me? Are-you-freaking-kidding-me, Smallville?!"

Her final words were punctuated with short, sharp jabs right over his bandage and Clark actually felt his knees buckle.

"I'm…"

"If you say you're sorry, I'm jamming the leg of that chair through that bullet hole!"

"You know what,? You're right!" Clark yelled at her, regaining his balance, "I must be the crazy one! I fell in love with you! With Lois Lane, of all people! If that isn't a recipe for a white coat and a padded room, then I don't know what is!"

"So, it's crazy to love me?"

Now she sounded offended. Clark wanted to scream. What the hell?

"It must be!" he shot back, "Because it is. I mean, I am! I'm crazy about you…"

His anger had trailed off so fast that the last words were barely a whisper. Clark realised, with some shock, that he had tears in his eyes. She was looking at him the way she always did. A combination of affection and frustration. Like he was the one thing in all the world that she couldn't figure out, and was happy about it.

Her eyes again.

Falling again.

He didn't care.

He could fall into them for the rest of his life and he would never, ever care.

"You're a moron, Clark."

And then she was kissing him.

What the hell?

He went with it.


	10. Chapter 10

Two posts in one day... this story's getting to me...

* * *

~*~

…**ten…**

~*~

The kiss lasted two minutes.

Two minutes that could have been two years, or two seconds, depending on how you looked at it. When they broke away, their eyes were closed. Both were flushed, breathing heavily, trying so hard to stay upright.

Clark was the first to find his voice.

"Wow… that was…"

Lois purred, the sound rumbling up from the back of her throat and sending a cool shiver up Clark's spine.

"I know…"

"We need to talk about this," he said.

Lois scrunched up her face, and this time, the moan that escaped her lips wasn't from any kind of pleasure.

"I know," she said.

~*~*~*~*~

_Fifteen Minutes Later…_

They faced each other across the table.

Clark had his hands in his lap, one leg bouncing up and down like an overworked jackhammer, his eyes trailing over the same, blank white-washed bricks over and over again…

Lois chose, instead, to stare at the ceiling, as she drummed the pencil she'd found on the surface of the wood.

_Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…_

_Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…_

_Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…_

"Could you please cut that out?" said Clark, at last.

"No."

_Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…_

_Tap-tap-tappity-tap-tap-tap…_

"Lois."

_Tap-tap-tappity-ta–_

"Lois!"

Clark grabbed the hand holding the offending pencil, forcing her to stop.

Lois froze.

Clark froze.

It felt to Clark like he might as well have grabbed the sparkling end of a live wire as a pulse of heat and energy shot up his arm from where his hand met hers. Breathing became difficult again.

By some miracle, he managed to find his voice.

"I need to know," he said.

"Need to know what?"

"How you feel about me."

"The kiss wasn't answer enough?"

"I need to hear you say it."

"Why?" she countered.

"Because _I_ said it."

"What are we? In kindergarten?"

"Lois…"

"Fine, you wanna know how I feel?"

"Yes."

Lois opened her mouth to answer, then quickly shut it again. She jerked her hand out of his, forcing both between her legs where he wouldn't notice the nerve-wracking case of tremors that had suddenly overcome her.

"Terrified..." she whispered.

Clark heard her. Clear as day. He dropped his head, feeling his heart drop below the level of even this basement cell.

"I think…" Lois went on, her voice still so soft it might have been nothing more than flitting dream, "I think I might love you too much."

"What?"

Clark's head snapped back up, searching desperately for her eyes…

Those eyes…

Lois forced herself to look at him. She knew that if she carried on like this… baring herself like this… there would be no turning back. No way they could shrug this off – make lame jokes about it and pretend that that spark hadn't been there the whole time.

Because it had.

She knew it.

He knew it.

Hence, the terrified…

"I'm not supposed to need you, Smallville," she said, "That was never part of the plan. Ever since… ever since I was little, I had to do it on my own. My dad tried, but with my mom gone…" she shook her head, trying to free herself from the memories, "I always managed. Alone. I knew I would make it in this world. I knew I could leave a mark, but I always planned on doing it on my own. And now…"

She blinked back tears. This was hard. Harder then anything she'd ever done.

Clark reached out his hand again. He didn't say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes. They were pleading. Begging her to make the connection again. To draw on his strength, insignificant as it was, and carry on.

Smiling through the tears, Lois took his hand.

"And now…" she went on, "I don't want to do it alone anymore. I notice the things you do for me, you know? And I'm not talking about the rescues, and the keeping me out of trouble because, let's face it, that's a losing battle…"

Clark squeaked out a smile at that.

"I'm talking about the other things," she said, "The way you refill my stash of pencils every time I'm running low. The way you shouted at Jeannie when she dared to use a fresh filter in the coffee machine on the same day as the old one because that takes away the kick I like. I notice these things. I notice that no matter what the front page story is, you always turn to whatever story I wrote and read it first. The way you'll always walk on the street side of the sidewalk like some gentleman from a dumb old movie, and… And I know now that if any of that went away… it would take everything I have just to keep breathing."

Clark sat very still as time, and the silence, drew out between them like a blade. Then he was moving. If he didn't know better, he would have sworn he'd got his powers back he moved so fast. He wrenched his hand out of hers, got a grip on the table and hurled it aside like it had insulted him. Tried to keep him from her.

With one hand, he lifted her up, and drew her lips against his own. The spark lit, catching the waves of their emotions and burst into flame as his tongue slid into her mouth. Lois grasped the tip between her teeth, biting down just a little, and he shuddered.

Deeper…

Deeper…

Clark stumbled backwards, carrying her with him until the back of his legs met the edge of the bed and they collapsed. Lois fell on top of him, her weight bearing down on his injured shoulder, and Clark grunted.

"Oh, my God!" Lois gasped, "I'm so sorry…"

Clark grinned, "Now who's apologising?"

Lois cut off her own snarky reply and just kissed him again. Her hands sliding up the ridges of his chest… up his neck until her fingers tangled in the soft curls of his hair.

Clark's hand wove a trail of electricity up the side of her leg, across the bare skin at the small of her back, leaving a rush of goose bumps in it's wake.

Their bodies seemed to hum as they melted into each other.

It took almost inhuman effort to disengage, but Lois managed to plant one hand on the bed and push herself up.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked as she fought for breath.

"Yes."

"You have to convince me."

"What?"

"Well… I just said a lot of nice things about you, and it's feeling kinda one-sided here…"

"Lo-issss…" Clark groaned, trying to will his body to stop damn well shaking.

"Come on, Smallville" she teased, "I managed to get through it."

"Fine… fine…" he said, "You know this isn't the best time for a guy to be stringing together rational thoughts!"

She giggled. Clark took the giggle as a challenge.

"What do I love about you? Um… well… let's see…"

He scanned his memories frantically, trying to piece them into a picture of something that would get her to kiss him again. It wasn't as hard as he thought.

"You have seven laughs," he said, "And I love that I'm the only one who knows about them. At least, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one."

"Seven laughs?"

"One, when you just made fun of someone. Two… when something on TV tickles you… like that stupid commercial with the dancing baby."

"That baby's hilarious!" she protested.

Clark ignored her, "Three… when you actually get tickled. Four… when someone doesn't get the joke. Five…"

That was enough for Lois. She could find out about the others later. She clamped her mouth to his, her hands fumbling with the clasp of his jeans. Tugging it loose, she wrenched off her top, allowing Clark to get a clear path to clasp of her bra.

And the flame roared out of control.


	11. Chapter 11

~*~

…**eleven…**

~*~

Afterward, Clark could recall every instant… every touch, every breath, every glance. But in the moment, all he knew was the perfume of her hair, the light of her soul behind her hazel eyes, and the fleeting memory of a dream. His passion had flared, his mind alive with colours until they exploded in his mind and he fell into the abyss.

When they were done, he held her to him, wishing he could stretch the moment to eternity.

He found his mind wandering, and he recalled a sheet of instructions his mom had tacked to the refrigerator – with a magnet of a bunny, if he recalled – at the behest of Clark's school. It was fact sheet about fire safety. And the principles of the physics and chemistry involved in creating a fire. Clark had a photographic memory, and could picture it clearly: _"Smouldering occurs when burning is slow, without flames. When burning is extremely fast, an explosion could occur. Fire that is burning faster than smouldering, but slower than an explosion, is a flaming fire."_

To Clark's mind, that was him and Lois all over.

Only they'd skipped the last part and went from smouldering to explosion in an instant.

Clark hoped that, after this, they could find a flaming fire… a fire that lasts.

Lois stirred in his arms.

"I thought you were asleep," he said, planting a soft kiss in her hair.

Lois mumbled a reply, but her face was buried in the crook of his arm and he couldn't hear what she said.

"What?"

"I said…" she lifted her head, laying it to rest on his shoulder, "I don't want to go to sleep. We need to figure this out."

"Well," said Clark, "I don't remember too much about high school biology, but what happens is a man and a woman…"

"Not _that_, you idiot!" she slapped his chest, "I mean this situation. We have to get out of here."

"I checked, Lois," he told her, "That trapdoor's the only way out. Those sketches over there… one of Lex's… patients… left them here. He must have been here for months. If there was a way to escape…"

"So… what? We just wait here until Chloe decides to let us out?"

"Or until someone realises we're missing and comes looking for us."

"That won't be until Monday, at the earliest."

Clark sighed. He didn't know how to reassure her, and that stung him worse that the bullet wound.

"Why did she do this, Clark?" she asked, her voice tinged with pain, "Why did she abandon you here?"

"Well…"

"Wait!"

Clark was thrown for a second. Now she _didn't_ want to hear the story?

"I'm going to need food for this," said Lois, "What's in the fridge?"

"The basics," he said, "Some soup… canned something or other, a tub of ice-cream…"

"Ice-cream?" Lois glared at him with total incredulity, "And you mention this now? Go get it!"

Clark chuckled. He swung himself out of the bed and padded, naked, across to the fridge. A wicked smile played across Lois' lips as she watched him. Clark grimaced as the cold air from the fridge hit his bare skin and he grabbed the tub quickly, shutting the door. There were utensils on top of the fridge, and he grabbed a spoon. He hurried back to bed. Lois held the sheet open for him, and he jumped in.

"What took you so long?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "I didn't realise fifteen seconds was too long to wait for dairy products!"

"It was too long to wait for you!"

Clark's heart didn't skip a beat. It skipped the entire Great American Songbook.

Lois flashed him a smile, grabbed the ice-cream and whipped off the lid before he could respond. Digging the spoon into the creamy mix inside, she ladled a large spoonful into her mouth and moaned.

"Keep making sounds like that and you're never gonna get the story," Clark threatened.

Lois laughed, and a blob of ice cream escaped her lips, landing with a splat on his chest.

"Oops, sorry…" said Lois, and licked it off.

Clark shut his eyes.

"Baseball… baseball… baseball…" he muttered, under his breath.

"Okay," said Lois, trying to be serious, but the effect was ruined because she couldn't stop smiling, "Tell me!"

Clark took a breath, "You're not gonna like it," he said.

"I'm not doubting that."

"Oh, man…" Clark gritted his teeth, "I should have told you this before we… you know?"

"Jumped each other?"

"I would have said _made love_, but anyway…"

"Smallville," she smiled at him, pinching her fingers on either side of his mouth, like a mother playing with a baby, "It was beautiful, and wonderful, and a lot of other things, but _that_ was not making love! That was straight out of the director's cut of _Nine and a Half Weeks!_"

Clark rolled his eyes.

"Fine, just… just know that the only reason I didn't tell you is because… well, because I couldn't have stopped myself if I wanted to. A tank couldn't have stopped me. A nuclear weapon couldn't have stopped me. An asteroid destined for earth, and threatening to destroy life as we know it couldn't have…"

"Okay!" Lois cut him off, "I get it! Now what's this terrible thing?"

"I'm the reason for everything," he said.

He saw her steel herself for another tirade, and hurriedly carried on.

"I'm not saying that because I'm trying to take the blame!" he said, "I'm just trying to explain. I didn't… I didn't come to Smallville before or after the meteor shower."

"Huh?" Lois scrunched up her face, trying to disentangle that weird statement, "Is this like… a puzzle I'm supposed to figure out? A man rides into town on Friday, stays two days and leaves on Friday, kinda thing?"

"What? No… I mean… I didn't come before or after. I came…"

"During?" the light went off in her eyes again, "You mean…?"

"I'm from a planet called Krypton," he said, deciding to just lay it all out there – the naked truth, so to speak, "The meteor shower was actually the result of my planet exploding. My parents… my biological parents… they put me in a ship and sent me here – to save me. That's where my powers come from. Under the earth's sun… I'm different. Faster, stronger, and there are… other things, but they're not that important right now."

Through the whole explanation, Lois just stared at him. Clark couldn't decipher the look on her face. It was like she was struggling with something.

"Lois? Lois, are you okay? What is it?"

"I hate myself…" she said.

"What?"

That was the last thing he'd expected.

"Lois, how can you say something like that?"

"Because!" she attacked the ice cream, taking another three big spoonfuls, before she continued, "I shouldn't be thinking what I'm thinking! It's wrong!"

Clark's blood turned to ice. His breathing just… stopped.

He knew it. She was freaked out. She'd slept with an alien and it was tearing her up inside. How could he be so stupid? So inconsiderate? Of course it made a difference! It would _always_ make a difference! He'd violated her, and now…

"You lost your whole family!" Lois' voice dragged him back from the spiral of self-recrimination, "A whole planet was destroyed and I'm so, so sorry, Clark! But at the same time…"

Clark couldn't start breathing yet.

"At the same time… I'm glad. Because you're here. With me."

Now he could.

He leaned over, his hand moving to the back of her head as he drew her in for the softest kiss. She tasted like cherry ice-cream. Wild Cherry. Clark smiled, but didn't break the kiss.

"You don't hate me for thinking that?" she mumbled into his lips.

For the first time since he'd met her, Lois sounded like a scared little girl. Clark found it adorable.

"Are you kidding?" he said, "If it's even possible, I only love you more."

She finally returned his smile, and rewarded him with another kiss.

"There's more, though," said Clark, "I'm not… completely alone. There's Kara… she really is my cousin, and… Davis."

"Davis?"

"He's Kryptonian. Not the same as me, he's… genetically engineered. A monster. His whole purpose, his reason for being… is to destroy me."

"And Chloe knows all this?" Clark nodded, "Then what the hell is she doing with him?"

"She thinks she's protecting me."

"Well, she's doing a bang-up job!" Lois snarled, "Stripping you of your powers and leaving you defenceless?"

Again. The blood to ice. The lack of breath. And a voice… echoing…

"_Tomorrow is the day you die…"_

Lois must have noticed the sudden shift in him, because she actually put down the ice-cream and leaned over him, filled with concern.

"Clark? What is it? What's wrong?"

Choking back the fear he felt, Clark found a smile for her.

"Nothing," he said, running a hand down her arm, relishing the velvet of her skin, "Right now… at this moment… nothing could possibly be wrong."

"I don't believe you," she said, "Talk to me."

Clark shook his head.

"Can we…? Can we just drop it? Please?" he couldn't keep the note of desperation out of his voice, "Can we just lay here tonight? Together? Tomorrow's problems can wait for tomorrow, but… tonight… Can you just be with me?"

Lois read the fear that prompted the plea and her heart swelled… with equal measures of grief and a terrible love.

"Okay…"

She rested her head against his chest, over the steady beat of his heart. Clark wound an arm around her, drawing her as close as he could. Cherishing each touch, each lingering moment…as the last.

"I don't want to go to sleep…" Lois breathed, "I don't want this day to end…"

Clark grimaced, fighting a battle against the tears. Threading his fingers through the locks of her hair, he found a lie for her. It came easily. Because she needed it.

"It's okay," he said, "You can sleep. We'll make another like it tomorrow."

And so, they drifted off, at peace in each other's arms. Where Clark realised they were always meant to be, and now… would never be again.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Hey… so sorry it took so long to update again. What with weddings I didn't know about, and having to photograph stuff, and a golf competition and just general madness… I was swamped. But the story's almost finished. Last chapter up by tomorrow at the latest. In the meantime, here's the next bit… and it has Lois calling Krypton funny things… hope it was worth the wait. Oh, and the lyrics at the beginning - Beautiful Disaster by Kelly Clarkson. Yes, I like Kelly Clarkson... so what? Oh, shut up!

* * *

~*~

…**twelve…**

~*~

* * *

_he's soft to the touch_

_but frayed at the ends he breaks_

_he's never enough_

_and still he's more than i can take_

_boy when i don't know_

_i don't know what he's after_

_but he's so beautiful_

_he's such a beautiful disaster_

_and if i could hold on_

_through the tears and the laughter_

_would it be beautiful_

_or just a beautiful disaster_

* * *

Lois drifted.

Caught in that place between sleep and awake where she could still remember dreaming.

She didn't want to leave that place.

Clark had told her that he loved her.

He'd touched her, so gently…

Held her… kissed her… set her world alight when he made love to her.

She didn't want to leave that place… between sleep and awake.

Where she could still remember dreaming.

But dreams end. Dreams die. And Lois' eyes fluttered open despite her internal groans of absolute protest. She grimaced, trying to blink away the annoyance of the harsh, unfamiliar light. It took long seconds for the fog to lift from her mind and, when it did, she was convinced she was dreaming again.

Because she couldn't float.

Could she?

No, no, she corrected herself, she wasn't floating – Clark was. She was just lying on top of him.

That was better.

For about 2.5 seconds.

Then she screamed.

Clark's return from the land of dreams was considerably quicker than Lois'. The sound of her scream grabbing him from sleep so fast he almost choked on the rising panic before he got his eyes open. When he did, he noticed the ceiling was only a foot away, and Lois was slipping.

Just as she tumbled off the cushion of his body, he grabbed her wrist, halting her fall. Then he froze.

Suspended thirty feet in the air, Lois and Clark just looked at each other, wide-eyed and freaking out. Lois couldn't decide who was more freaked out, herself or Clark. It was a toss-up at this point.

"Lois… don't worry…" he managed to mutter, "I've got you."

"Yeah… but who's got you?"

The sound of her repeating the exact statement he'd voiced to Pete thirteen years ago actually calmed him down and he laughed a little. Lois seemed to take his laughter as a personal affront.

"This isn't funny, Smallville!" she yelled, "You're freakin' flying! You didn't tell me you could fly!"

"I couldn't until now," he said.

"Then what the hell is going on?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "But obviously I'm healed. I got my powers back. Along with some new ones."

"Yeah, yeah, that's great," she said, "But could we please have this conversation back on terra-firma before the ice-cream I ate last night makes a comeback?"

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

Clark didn't move. Lois wasn't impressed. Truth be told, Clark didn't know how to move.

"I'm waiting!" she said.

"Uh…"

"Clark?"

"I think… I'm kinda stuck."

"You're what?"

"Well, excuse me! But I wasn't born with an instruction guide on how to fly!"

"Well, figure it out faster! My arm's starting to get lame!"

"I would if you could shut up for two seconds!"

"Hey, I'm allowed to rant when I wake up and find my boyfriend floating! If that's not an invitation to vent, then I don't…"

She trailed off when she caught Clark smirking.

"What?!"

"You called me your boyfriend."

"Oh, for God's sakes!"

Chuckling, Clark closed his eyes, and tried to will himself back to the floor. Keeping his eyes resolutely shut, he started muttering under his breath:

"Down… down… down…"

He only opened them again when he felt Lois' weight lift as her feet touched the floor. Drawing deep, easy breaths, Clark brought himself back to a standing position and gently touched down.

"Wow…" he breathed, "So that's what that feels like…"

"Any other spontaneous powers on the way that I should know about?" asked Lois, "Mindreading, maybe…? The ability to line-dance? Sprouting hair in uncomfortable places at every full moon?"

"God, I hope not."

"So… you're a full-on Power Ranger again?"

"Well, I wouldn't put it like that," said Clark, "But yeah… looks like."

"Good," said Lois, "So can we please, please, please get outta here?"

"Sure," said Clark, "I'd just… uh… I think we should put on some clothes first."

Lois' eyes immediately raked downwards, taking in every inch of Clark's exposed skin. Then she noticed that she was naked too.

"Good idea."

They both started scrambling around, rooting out stray items of clothing that, somehow, had found themselves flung to every corner of the cell. Clark considered getting dressed at super speed, but figured Lois wouldn't be too happy about that. It would look like an advantage.

"So…" said Lois, digging a shoe out from under the table that Clark had smashed into the wall, "Why do you think the blue Crouton stuff wore off?"

"Kryptonite," Clark corrected her, "And I'm not sure. I think, maybe it's because the bullet went right through me. Fragments of it got into my system, but I guess my body broke it down. Blue kryptonite isn't true kryptonite. It's engineered."

"That makes a difference?"

"I have no idea."

"Uh huh… and the flying?"

"That's even weirder," said Clark, "I've sorta floated before… when I was dreaming."

"What were you dreaming about last night?"

Clark opened his mouth to answer, then quickly changed his mind. He pretended to be busy finding a sock behind the refrigerator. Lois, of course, wasn't fooled.

"Clark.." she said, in a deceptively dangerous tone of voice, "What were you dreaming about?"

"Nothing."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Right."

"You don't believe me?"

"No."

"Too bad."

"Clark…"

Again with the dangerous tone. Clark sighed.

"Fine," he said, "I… was… dreaming… about you."

The grin on Lois' face wouldn't have looked out of place on a cat taking a swim in a vat full of cream. Clark blushed. That just made her grin even more.

"I make you fly?"

Clark scowled. He picked up the refrigerator and tossed it aside so he could get at the stray sock.

"Wass'amatter Clark?" she drawled, "Don't want to admit that I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because if I admit that then I won't have the strength to… to do what I have to do today."

The grin vanished, "What do you have to do?"

"Can we just talk about this when we get out of here?"

"No, we're going to talk about it now."

"Lois, please…"

"No."

To prove her point, she planted her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, the very picture of the immovable object.

"You know I can just pick you up and carry you out of here," he said.

"Try it."

Clark considered it, but only briefly. It wouldn't be a smart move.

"Last night you asked me to put it on hold," she said, "And I did because… because I thought you needed it. But it's a new day, Clark. Now I want to know what's going on."

"It's complicated."

"I'm pretty smart. I think I can keep up."

Her stare was locked in. He'd seen that look before. Every time she got the scent of a story, or the last jelly-filled doughnut at the coffee station… it was all Mad Dog Lane and she wouldn't back down for anything.

"Last night, before I got the message from Chloe… a friend came to see me," he explained.

"A friend?"

"Yeah… he's… not exactly from… around here."

"Oh? Is he from Crayon too?"

"Krypton."

"Whatever."

"No, he's from the future."

"Like… _the future_-the future?"

"What does that even mean?" asked Clark.

Lois ignored him, "What did he say?"

"He told me Davis and I would… battle," said Clark, "And that Davis was going to kill me."

Clark expected many things after that statement. He expected Lois to be shocked, maybe horrified… a stray tear or two…

He didn't expect her to laugh it off like he'd just announced he was going to the supermarket.

"Well, that's not going to happen," she said.

"Actually, Lois, it is," said Clark, "He's from the future. That's how he knows."

"He doesn't know squat!" said Lois, dismissively, "You're the Blur! He can't beat you."

"Lois, he's the thing that attacked us at the wedding. He tossed me around like it was nothing."

"So, figure out his weakness and exploit it," she said.

"Just that easy?"

"Just that easy."

Clark laughed, "You're incredible, you know that?"

"You're only figuring that out now?"

Clark didn't answer. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss. He tried to pour everything he was thinking, everything he was feeling, into that kiss.

How it felt like he'd loved her forever.

How even forever wasn't enough.

How grateful he was that with one sentence she could bring a sense of calm that he could carry anywhere… even to the end of the world.

Lois felt it all.

Then Clark bent his knees, scooping her up into his arms. And then they were flying. They left the cell behind, with it's ghosts and memories.

This wasn't that place between sleep and awake, where you can still remember dreaming.

This was past that place, where a monster was waiting.


	13. Chapter 13

~*~

…**thirteen…**

~*~

The last glints of moonlight died as the sun sought to break over Kansas. The sky was the colour of lead. Hints of silver flicked off the stalks of corn surrounding the Kent farm. Clark flew low, but not too fast, revelling in the scorch of the cold pre-dawn air over his body, and the feel of Lois in his arms.

He wanted to remember this forever.

However long forever was.

For Lois, the experience could be summed up in a single word… awe.

At the sight of the town she loved sprawled out below her. At the magnificence of the man who had the ability to carry her above the world.

They touched down on the porch of the Kent farmhouse way too soon. They just stood there for a moment, a feeling of awkwardness sliding between them that neither knew how to break. They both sensed that something had shifted with the passing of the moonlight. The night was over, a new day had begun, and they had both lost something, perhaps.

Clark opened the door, leading them inside. Almost on autopilot, he switched on the kettle and started making coffee. Lois perched on the counter, just watching him. When he was done, he offered her a cup of the strong brew and she smiled her thanks, sipping at it gratefully.

"How soon do you have to go?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"As soon as possible," said Clark, "I have to find Chloe and Davis. Now that I can fly, it should be easier, but there are… things I need to do. To prepare."

"You have a plan?"

"Sort of."

"You want to tell me about it?"

"I'd rather not."

Lois just nodded. Clark was surprised, expecting her to push, but she just sat there, sipping at her coffee and looking sad.

"It's all changed, hasn't it?" she said, suddenly, her eyes fixed on a spot outside the window.

"Between us?"

"Yeah."

"Do you regret it?"

Lois turned to him and smiled. Clark couldn't explain how grateful he was to see that smile.

"I don't mean that," said Lois, "I mean, now that you're… you again. It's changed. Last night…"

Clark said nothing. There was nothing to say. She was right. It had changed. When he was fifteen he'd lost his powers for a while, leeched from him in a freak accident by a fellow student named Eric Summers. Lana had been the one to notice the change in him. For that brief time when he was powerless, he looked like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Clark felt that weight more than ever in this moment.

"Do you read comic books?" asked Lois.

The question threw him for a second.

"Um… not really," he admitted, "Why?"

"Just thinking about a comic I read a while ago," she said, "The X-Men. You know it?"

"Yeah," said Clark, "But when I do read comics, I'm not really a Marvel fan."

Lois chuckled, "Well, anyway, Rogue and Gambit are like these… star-crossed lovers…" she explained, "Only they can't be together because Rogue's power means that any contact – skin on skin – will drain him until he dies. But then they get trapped in Magneto's Arctic fortress…"

Clark cut in, "Magneto has an Arctic fortress?"

"Yeah."

"How original," he muttered.

"He strips them of their powers, and… even though they're trapped, it's the one night Gambit and Rogue get to spend together. Kinda like…a cruel irony."

Clark's eyes met hers and he saw the mist of tears coating them.

"How does the story end?" he asked.

"They get their powers back. Everything's changed, and… she leaves him there."

Clark bowed his head, fighting a losing battle against his own tears.

"I have to do this, Lois," he said, "I don't want to, but… I have to stop Davis. I have to save Chloe. I promised."

"I know."

Silence between them. An eternity of it, filled with dreams and regrets.

"This isn't how I imagined it," said Lois, "This isn't how I imagined it would go when you and I finally figured it out."

"You thought about that?"

"Of course I did," she said, "I think… maybe… I've been in love with you since we met. Maybe even before that."

Clark's face twisted into a smile that was ruined by the tears that now ran freely down his cheeks. Remembering a line from a movie he saw once, he tried to go for a joke – just to stop the pain.

"So," he said, "Will you love me for the rest of my life?"

Lois must have seen the movie too, because she said: "No. I'll love you for the rest of mine."

He kissed her. The salty taste of both their tears blending with something that was just… Lois. And he loved it. And it tore him apart to break away.

"It was supposed to be a start, Clark," she said, her forehead pressed to his, her fingers again twisted into the locks of his hair, "A start to… something. Dinner, a movie, a concert… a sunset, a walk, a smile… whatever…"

"I have to go."

He allowed himself one last kiss. Burning the feel of her into his mind, hoping against hope that it would give him strength, not drain it by the time this day was done. Lois didn't stop him when he left without another word. She just collapsed to the floor, and cried… for all that might have been.


	14. Epilogue

~*~

…**epilogue…**

~*~

"_Authorities have placed the death toll at over a hundred…"_

Click.

"…_spokesman for the mayor has confirmed sightings of what onlookers have called a 'beast'. Humanoid in shape, but…"_

Click.

"…_the famed superhero that has been operating in Metropolis for over a year…"_

Click.

"_A woman who claimed she was plucked from the monster's clutches by the Red-Blue-Blur…"_

For the first time, Lois had no desire to be the one writing the news. It was bad enough, sitting in the Kents' darkened living room, watching the blurry images of Metropolis going up in flames. Clark and Davis had been locked in combat for hours.

Helicopters and brave – or suicidal – cameramen on the ground had been trying to follow the fight as it raged across the city, but the task was almost impossible. They moved too fast and the blows they landed sent out shockwaves that levelled anyone, and anything standing on the same block.

Lois couldn't bring herself to look away. Everytime she caught a shot of Clark, even if he was just a red and blue smudge on the screen, her heart leapt – because it meant he was still alive. Still fighting.

Still thinking of her?

It was the worst kind of torture.

Especially witnessing it here, in this house. This house that represented safety, and family, and love. The Kents had taken her in. They'd offered her a home and asked for nothing in return. Clark had offered her a foil for her own wit and insecurities and she'd fallen for him. And now she faced the prospect of losing him.

She'd kept up a front when he told her about that prophetic message from the future. What else was she supposed to do? Allow the terror that struck her to overwhelm her and break down? That would have weakened him, seeing her like that. He would have blamed himself.

No, she had to be strong.

But that was then… not now.

Now the weakness showed. Wrapped in Clark's blanket, she hugged her knees to her chest as she perched on the couch, flicking through the channels on the TV and just watching through a film of steady tears.

Finally exhausted by the effort of trying to piece together a coherent thread from all the different newscasts, she just settled on a local channel and waited. Whatever happened, she had to witness it. Hear it for herself. She owed Clark that much.

The anchor-woman – a petite blonde with poufy hair – broke off mid-sentence, holding her hand to her ear as someone off-camera delivered the breaking news.

"_This just in"_ she said, _"There are reports of… yes, an explosion. Somewhere on the outskirts of Metropolis…" _

The woman stopped to listen again, nodding to indicate that she understood.

"_The location has been confirmed as the LuthorCorp Geo-Thermal facility. Ladies and gentlemen, early accounts suggest the entire facility has been levelled. We don't yet know if it's connected to the battle taking place between the Red-Blue Blur and the monster that started this carnage, but… if it is… I'm sure all of Metropolis will join me in praying that the city's guardian has made it out alive."_

Lois couldn't take it anymore. Switching off the TV, she pressed her face into the fabric of the blanket and sobbed.

It was over.

She knew it.

She felt it.

Clark was gone.

Lois had no idea how long she sat there. The pale rays of the moon were the only thing to light her shaking form as she let her grief bleed out of her. Then she heard it.

A single footstep behind her.

Lois turned.

For a second, she was convinced he was a ghost. Or just her imagination.

But then he smiled at her, and it was more real than anything Lois had ever known. She was off the couch and in his arms before he could take a step towards her. He smelled of smoke, and sweat and she didn't care. She had no words for this. She planted a thousand kisses all over his face, her hands roaming everywhere, confirming what a part of her still didn't dare believe…

That he was here.

That he had come back to her.

Pulling her into a fierce embrace, Clark breathed in the scent of her hair. It was like flying again. A single soft kiss, in the fleshy part of her neck and he knew he had never felt more alive.

"You were right…" he said, still holding her so tight, "It's a start."

~*~

…**the end…**

~*~


End file.
